


Invisible Girl

by fingers2keys



Category: Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Canon Compliant, Child Abuse, Prequel, Sad, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingers2keys/pseuds/fingers2keys
Summary: What happens to Anaesthesia before the rats take her to London Below.CW: Implied rape, pedophilia, child abuse





	1. What Her Mother Meant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amo_amare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amo_amare/gifts).



The social services lady was still talking. Annie had been staring out of the passenger window for the past forty minutes, silent as a mouse, but Ms. Lewis wasn’t taking the hint.

“Poor thing, you’ve never known anything else. But your auntie will take good care of you, maybe put some meat on those scrawny bones of yours…”

A cab whipped around the intersection, nearly taking out a pedestrian, and the pedestrian gave the driver the finger. Annie’s mother was fond of flipping off cab drivers; she was easily enraged by injustices small and large, and cabbies were frequent offenders. Once, her mum’s larger-than-life emotions had scared her. But now, as she thought about her mother, Annie felt like a sinking stone.

“Now, love, we’ll be there in a jiff,” Ms. Lewis was saying. “Try to smile and look grateful.”

The welt on Annie’s cheek itched. She knew she wasn’t supposed to touch it. You need to let it heal, the doctor had said. You’ll just make it worse by scratching. She had told the doctors and later the social services lady that her mum hadn’t meant to do it. That she was just smashing plates, and it was Annie’s fault that she hadn’t gotten out of the way fast enough. It was really just a scratch, and it didn’t even hurt that much. But there was an awful lot of blood, and at the end of the day, social services had decided that what Annie’s mother had meant didn’t matter in the slightest, especially since she had been stark naked in full view of the neighbors.

“And here we are!” said Ms. Lewis, a little too brightly. “Your aunt’ll be so pleased to see you.”

As Ms. Lewis hopped out of the car, Annie took the opportunity to scratch her cheek undetected.

They had arrived in front of a brown building, five stories tall. Ms. Lewis opened the boot and pulled Annie’s trunk out, and then came around to the passenger side and rapped on the window. Annie shook her head.

Sighing, Ms. Lewis opened the door.

“Come on now, love. No use being dramatic.”

“I want to go home,” Annie said.

“This is your home now. Come on, don’t make a scene.”

Annie’s arms felt impossibly heavy, but she managed to unbuckle her seatbelt and slip out onto the sidewalk.

“There, see, that wasn’t so hard,” Ms. Lewis said. She held Annie’s trunk in one hand, and reached for Annie’s hand with the other, but Annie jerked away.


	2. A Girl No One Wanted

“Well, then, Anastasia. Let me get a look at you.” Aunt Tilly held her at arms length and looked her up and down. Annie knew she was skinny. She knew that her clothes were worn out and ratty. Not to mention the ugly mark on her face. But her aunt smiled thinly.

“You look just like your mum. Let’s hope that’s where the resemblance stops.” She glanced at Ms. Lewis and laughed nervously. Ms. Lewis smiled back, in on the joke.

“Come on then. I’ll show you your room.”

She led Annie down a narrow hall to a small room. The curtains were drawn, and a thin sliver of sunlight illuminated a desk and file cabinet. On the computer monitor, a tangle of lines shifted, changing color. Boxes of paper and stacks of files covered the floor, but a corner of the room had been cleared to fit a foldout cot.

“I know it’s not much. Here’s hoping it’s just temporary, ‘til we can get a bigger place.”

Ms. Lewis had trailed them to the room, and now she cleared her throat.

“This is Ed’s home office,” Aunt Tilly said, by way of explanation. “My partner. He’ll be in here during the day, but you’ll have your privacy at night. And once school starts up again, you’ll be gone most of the time he needs to be in here.”

Ms. Lewis held out Annie’s trunk.

“How ‘bout you get settled, love? I’ll just have a word with your aunt.” She turned to leave, and Aunt Tilly started to follow her out.

“Wait,” Annie said. “What ‘bout the twins?”

“The twins?” her aunt asked.

“Where will they sleep?”

Aunt Tilly stared at her blankly.

“Lovey,” started Ms. Lewis. “The twins are with their foster family.”

“But –”

“Your aunt has been very gracious to take you in.”

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry, Anastasia,” Aunt Tilly said. “I just don’t have room. But if the twins get… Once the twins get adopted, you can see them as often as you like.”

Annie looked at Ms. Lewis. She didn’t look so certain. And for the first time, the fear that Annie had been suppressing welled up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. The welt stung.

“There, there,” said Ms. Lewis. “It’ll all be alright. You’re safe now.”

The adults retreated to the kitchen, closing the door behind them. Annie curled up in a ball on the cot, drawing the thin quilt around her. The cot was sunk in the middle, and one of the springs dug into her back. Annie swallowed, but the tears came faster and harder. Stupid tears. Stupid twins with their stupid foster family. Stupid, stupid life.

Eventually, Ms. Lewis knocked softly against the door, but Annie said nothing. She heard Ms. Lewis sigh.

“Well, pet, I’m off. I’ll see you soon, to check up on you. Be good.”

A moment passed, and then Annie heard the apartment door open and close. Ms. Lewis was gone. Annie thought Aunt Tilly might come back then, but she didn’t.

Annie didn’t have very much in her trunk, just the things social services had packed. Worn out clothes, some of which she’d outgrown. One of the agents had packed a few books, and now, Annie took out a volume of collected fairy tales. It should have gone with the twins. It had been Jessie’s favorite. As Annie thumbed through the pages, the threadbare spine cracked open to “Cinderella.”

The story had never been one of Annie’s favorites, perhaps because Jessie had demanded to hear it read aloud over and over again. But now, as she mouthed the words to herself, Annie ached for Cinderella, who had also lost her mother, who had no friends in the world but mice and rats and birds, a girl who no one wanted.


	3. Nothing Too Personal

Annie felt Ed watching her all the time, his sharp blue eyes piercing through her. It was the summer holidays, and school wouldn’t start for another month. So Annie passed her time on the couch, eating crisps and watching telly or reading from her book of fairytales. Inevitably, Ed would come into the kitchen, lean against the counter, and ask her questions. Nothing too personal, usually just questions about what she was watching. And sometimes, at night, Annie would hear him quietly come into the room. As he searched for something or another amidst the stacks of folders, she would hold very still under the quilt.

Sometimes, Ed disappeared in the afternoons, and stayed out past Annie’s bedtime. On those occasions, Annie and Aunt Tilly would eat dinner in silence, Aunt Tilly picking at her food. Late at night, Annie would wake up to their hushed arguments. Aunt Tilly demanding to know where he’d been, Ed deflecting. Sometimes, she thought he was drunk. Sometimes, the arguments would peter out, and then Annie would hear peculiar, animalistic sounds and the creaking of their bed. Though she didn’t know what they were doing, she found the noises disturbing and shameful.

One morning, Annie’s book of fairytales went missing. She was sure that she had left it on the coffee table the night before, but after breakfast it was nowhere to be found. She searched everywhere: under the couch cushions, behind the bookcase, in the kitchen cabinets, even in Aunt Tilly and Ed’s room. Finally, she knocked on the door to Ed’s office.

He looked at her with his sharp stare, taking in her tear-streaked face and trembling hands.

“What is it, then?” he asked.

“My book,” she said. “It’s gone. It’s gone and I’ve looked everywhere.”

“There, now, don’t cry. Maybe it’s in here somewhere.”

As Annie searched her trunk and under her bed, he shifted boxes and folders around. At last, she found it under the quilt.

“You must have fallen asleep reading,” Ed said. But Annie was sure she hadn’t.

“Well, perhaps your aunt brought it back this morning.” That was possible, but Annie didn’t think Aunt Tilly would have hidden the book under the covers. As she considered this thought, Ed moved to the door and shut it.

“I helped you this morning, didn’t I?” he said. “Now I want you to help me.”

The intensity in his voice frightened her, and Annie tried to edge past him. But he grabbed her arm, his fingers encircling her wrist, bruising her skin.

“Take off your clothes. I want to see you,” he said.


	4. Where Apples Fall

When school started, it was a respite. But he still found times to corner her, in the afternoon. She threatened to tell Aunt Tilly, or social services, but he said they’d never believe her. Annie’s mother had been an unbalanced liar, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

One afternoon, she decided not to go home. She wandered through a park until it got dark, but she got so hungry and so cold that eventually she had no choice but to turn back towards Aunt Tilly’s apartment. When she was a few blocks from home, a police officer pulled up beside her and beckoned her to the car window.

“Are you Anastasia Doyle?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Your aunt is worried sick. I’m taking you home.”

So after that, Ed became her keeper. If she didn’t arrive home by tea, Aunt Tilly warned Annie that he would call the police. It was their job to keep her safe, Aunt Tilly said.

After her attempt to run, Ed was much crueler to her. He left more bruises, in places on her body that her clothes covered.


	5. Anaesthesia

One day, when Ed was out on one of his mysterious jaunts, Annie saw a rat scuttle across the kitchen floor. From the couch, she marveled at its sleek brown fur and inquisitive nose. It darted around, nosing at some crumbs, before disappearing into a hole beside the oven.

Annie knelt beside the hole and peered inside, trying to see the little creature. The hole was dark, and some fibers of the insulation poked through. But there was no sign of the rat.

She sat down, with her back against the oven. And suddenly, she found herself talking.

“Mr. Rat? Don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you. My name is Annie. An’ I’m ten years old. I like animals. More than people. An’ I thought perhaps we could be friends. I don’t have any friends. Not at school. An’ my sisters, Jessie and Chloe, are gone. I haven’t seen them in ages. I have no one I can tell.”

She stopped, afraid that Ed was home, but she didn’t hear anything. So she told.

“It’s Ed. He’s not my uncle, but he lives with my aunt. An’ he hurts me. An’ other stuff. He says no one would believe me, an’ he’s probably right. It’s like no one can see me. Like I’m invisible. An’ no one loves me, not even Aunt Tilly.”

The rat peaked its head out of the hole. Annie stretched out a finger towards it, and it didn’t run, so she stroked its head. When she drew back, the rat came out the rest of the way and stood on its back legs to look at her.

“You’re quite pretty, aren’t you?” Annie said. “I feel a bit silly, talking to a rat. Can you understand me?”

Just then, she heard a key in the lock, and the door opened. The rat froze, trembling.

“Hide!” Annie whispered. As the rat darted inside the hole, Ed entered the kitchen. His eyes narrowed, and he strode to the counter and grabbed a can of carpet cleaner from the cabinet under the sink. Shoving Annie aside, he sprayed it straight into the hole.

Annie felt as though she was suffocating along with the rat. Something inside of her broke, the last remnant of the girl she had been before.

“I hate you,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Rats are vermin,” he spat.

“You’re vermin.” She didn’t know exactly what vermin was, but she knew it was bad.

“Come here.” He drew her off the ground towards him. She kicked at him, tried to twist out of his grip.

“I’ll tell. I’ll tell Aunt Tilly.”

“Go on then,” he said, laughing. She fought harder, screaming for help, for the first time. He slapped a hand over her mouth and pushed her towards the office.

As he fumbled for the doorknob, his hand slipped from her mouth, and she bit down hard. He threw her to the ground. She put her hands out to stop the fall, and a firework burst in her shoulder. Her vision went white.

“Get up,” he hissed.

“I can’t. My shoulder…” Her breath was shallow, and her arm felt numb.

“Shit.” He hauled her up and took a look at her arm. She could tell from his face that her shoulder looked terribly wrong. “Shit. Okay. Fuck. Okay. Here’s the story. You were climbing a tree, and a branch broke, and you landed on your arm. Nothing to do with me. You got that?”

She could barely hear him through the pain.

“You got that?” he repeated, teeth gritted. She nodded. “Good. Tell anyone, and you’re dead.”

He drove her to the hospital. She kept her eyes closed the whole way there, unable to stop the tears from falling. The pain in her shoulder seared through her body, and she thought of Mr. Rat, probably dead in the wall.

In the emergency room, a doctor with kind eyes examined her.

“You’ve dislocated your shoulder,” he said. “It probably hurts a fair bit, but we’ll have you right as rain in no time.”

A nurse appeared, holding a needle, and Annie whimpered.

“It’s just anaesthesia,” said the doctor.

“Anastasia,” said Annie, correcting him.

The doctor laughed gently.

“No, sorry, lovey. We’re going to give you some anaesthesia. It’s a drug that will take away the pain.”

As the drug numbed her arm, Annie thought that it couldn’t take away all the pain. It couldn’t take away the pain of losing her mother, or her sisters, or the pain of being utterly alone. But it was a lovely idea, nonetheless.


	6. I AM 11

On Annie’s eleventh birthday, she found a small pile of presents waiting for her at breakfast. Aunt Tilly had given her some new clothes. Ed had given her Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Annie plastered a smile on, but she knew she would never read it. They’d also given her a button that said, “I AM 11,” which she pinned to her school uniform.

That afternoon, Ed wasn’t home. He didn’t come home for dinner either, and Annie could feel Aunt Tilly’s anger simmering beneath her calm smile.

“Did he tell you where he was going?” Aunt Tilly asked.

“No,” said Annie.

“He’s probably off with some other woman,” said Aunt Tilly. But then she changed her mind. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

Aunt Tilly did the dishes, and Annie sat at the table, reading her book of fairytales.

“Well, Anastasia, it’s your birthday,” said Aunt Tilly. “We can do anything you like.”

“Will you read me a story?” Annie asked. “I don’t care which one. You pick.”

“You’re a bit old for reading to, aren’t you?"

Annie gave her a pleading look.

“Well, alright. I did say anything.”

Aunt Tilly and Annie sat side by side on the couch, and Aunt Tilly thumbed through the book.

“What about… ‘Donkeyskin’? I don’t know that one.” Annie shrugged. It wasn’t a story she’d read either.

Aunt Tilly read the story aloud in a halting voice, and when she came to the part where the king decides that he must marry his own daughter, she stopped.

“This is horrible story. Let’s pick another one.”

“No, please,” Annie begged. “I want to hear how it ends.”

“Annie, this is awful. I can’t believe you read this stuff. It’s just wrong.”

“I need to know what happens to the girl.”

“Why?”

And so Annie told her everything.

Ed was right. Aunt Tilly didn’t believe her. She said that Annie was lying, and that she would call the police, and then she hit Annie, again and again, until Annie stopped fighting.

At long last, Aunt Tilly stopped. She looked down at Annie, limp on the couch, and then she turned, walked into her room, and closed the door. Annie could hear her muffled sobs coming from behind the door, but she felt no pity for Aunt Tilly.

Annie ran out into the night. Her entire body ached, but she pushed through the pain, running until the apartment was far behind her, until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She thought perhaps Aunt Tilly would have the police after her, and that thought spurred her on.

It was only as the sun was rising that she realized she’d left her most prized possession – her book of fairytales – behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was my first fic EVER, so I definitely welcome constructive critique. I tried to comply with the backstory Anaesthesia tells Richard. I was originally going to write what happens to her on the streets of London Above, what her life is like in London Below, and what happens after she gets taken by the Night. But alas, this part of story turned out longer than I planned, and with the clock ticking, I chose to end it here. Perhaps I'll write a sequel one day.


End file.
